Moments Like This
by Astounded
Summary: Will she continue to hide her secrets from him? R/H
1. Curious

Disclaimer: I don't own these amazing characters, and I would never dream of making any sort of profit from them, I simply wish to share a story with the world.  
  
A restless evening was all it was. A night in which the sky couldn't decide whether to open up and shower the earth with its tears or remain closed. Clouds on top of cloud rolled in over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The moon was hidden from view and the darkness they provided sheltered many young hearts that strolled on the hallowed grounds.  
  
One such heart was that of a young, brave Gryffendor witch named Hermione Granger. With a bag slung over her shoulder and several heavy books in her hand, there would be no question where this accomplished young witch was headed. For all who knew her or even knew of her, Hermione could be seen (but not heard) studying in the library. Her transfigurations were the best in her year, her charms were very advanced and her mind seemed to absorb more knowledge than many other students at Hogwarts would even know what to do with. That evening, however, young Miss Granger had another location in mind.  
  
Walking slowly along the path that she had traveled many times with Harry and Ron, Hermione headed towards Hagrid's hut. Hagrid, she knew, was away on Hogwarts business, business for Dumbledore, something he could not talk about. She knew it would be a matter of time before she and her friends found out what Hagrid was up to. He had a knack for saying things that he shouldn't say.  
  
Placing one foot in front of the other Hermione slowly walked to the hut. Her robes swished along the rocky path and her feet kicked up the rocks and dust. Unlike other girls at Hogwarts, Hermione wasn't afraid of getting herself dirty if it meant that she could accomplish a greater goal. Tonight's goal was to find a location in which she could study a certain subject that was giving her trouble. The hut was the answer. A quiet location that would provide her with the warmth she needed and the shelter from what looked like a very unfriendly sky.  
  
Of course, she could have gone to the library, or to the common room, but there were too many distractions, too many prying eyes. She needed to be alone; to collect her thoughts and to make sense of what was happening to her and around her. She was afraid and unsure of how to handle her current situation. Whenever she felt unsure Hermione always consulted a book. There were very few answers that Hermione couldn't find without a bit of research. Except these questions, these feelings were unlike any other that she had ever experienced. She wondered if she would every truly have an answer for them.  
  
Clutching the books to her chest, Hermione looked up. She had reached Hagrid's hut, but there was something unusual about it. Something she didn't expect. Someone was there. There was no smoke rising from the chimney, so it was apparent that no fire was burning. Yet there was a dim light illuminating from the hut. Hermione could see it through the windows. There was also a muffled noise. Someone was talking, saying something, but Hermione couldn't make out a word, yet the voice sounded very familiar.  
  
She slowly removed the books from her chest and stacked them on the ground in front of the window, pausing only for a moment to glance up at the volatile sky. She dropped her bag to the ground and stepped on her books, straining herself to peek inside the hut. Her eyes grew round as she discovered that the figure inside was looking out the window, directly into her curious brown eyes. It was then that the sky chose to open up. 


	2. Souls

It was a curious evening, curious indeed. Fellow Gryffendors were milling about talking about their plans for the weekend and next week's big Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Friday night was always a favorite of his because the week's classes and studies were over and the relaxation and fun could begin. Normally he would be looking forward to playing exploding snap with Harry and practicing his flying skills on the Quidditch field. He would take on anyone at Wizard's chess. He knew he should be relieved that the weekend had finally arrived; yet he had other issues on his mind.  
  
He knew what she would say, and while it would be sound advice he would never let her know that he had actually taken it. She would tell him that their Charms test was next week and that the Potions assignment would not write itself, no matter how hard he tried to charm his quill. He would never admit to her that she was right. No one could see him doing his work on a Friday night. No one.  
  
The library made sense. It was usually deserted on Friday nights. Yet there was usually someone there, the one person he didn't want to see. Well, he wanted to see her, but he didn't want her to see him.  
  
"Great, now my thoughts don't even make sense. This is what I get for doing homework on a Friday night," he muttered.  
  
The common room on Friday night was no place to be if one wanted to get any studying done. He thought about going to an empty classroom when a brilliant idea entered his mind. Hagrid's! Hagrid was away, something for Dumbledore, very secret. He grinned. Hagrid never really could keep quiet about such things. Yet the hut would be empty and it would be a perfect place for him to get some work done.  
  
He grabbed his books, a quill and some parchment and hurriedly shoved them into his bag. Harry was still with Snape, so if he made a break for it now he should be able to make it without anyone noticing. Snape never failed to ruin a good Friday night for him and Harry. As if it was really Harry's fault that Malfoy's robes had caught fire. Malfoy had been too busy annoying Hermione to notice that he had leaned over the flame a bit too far.  
  
He grinned. The look on Malfoy's face was priceless and he deserved what he got. To say those nasty words to Hermione, he surely was asking for something. It might have been him in detention tonight if Malfoy's robes hadn't caught fire. There was just something about that word, Mudblood that seemed to spill out of Malfoy's mouth every time Hermione was near. Each time he grew more and more angry. He wasn't sure what he would do the next time he heard the word spoken, but he was pretty sure it would land him in detention. Yet the look on her face when Malfoy called her a Mudblood was enough to set off every ounce of hostility in his soul. He never wanted to see her look that way again. She was tough and she hid her feelings well, but in her eyes he could see her pain. He never wanted her to feel any pain.  
  
He headed down the stairs and through the portrait hole. More stairs followed until he tasted the nighttime air. It was crisp, fresh, but also damp. He gazed up at the sky, wondering when the downpour would start. The moon was hidden. He rushed quickly down the rocky path towards Hagrid's. 


	3. Together

It was not long before he reached the hut. He was grateful that it was dark and available for his use. No one would think to look for him here and he could get all of his work done so that he would have the rest of the weekend to enjoy his time with Harry and Hermione. Hermione. He would never have thought to do schoolwork on a Friday night until she put the idea into his head. Sometimes he wondered how much of an influence she truly had on him. When he was with her, her sometimes felt as though he was put under some sort of spell. He quickly shook his head. No use thinking about such things this evening. There was work to be done.  
  
He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand.  
  
"Alohamora" he whispered.  
  
The lock opened and he pushed the door with his free hand.  
  
Not wanting to attract attention to his whereabouts, he chose not to light a fire.  
  
"Lumos" he muttered, and the tip of his wand lit up.  
  
That should be enough light, he thought to himself, as he laid the parchment out and began his Potions assignment. He propped open a book and began to read about the uses of unicorn hair. After reading several lines his eyes began to droop.  
  
"This is why people don't do homework on Friday nights Hermione!" he muttered.  
  
He closed his eyes and began to think about her. He didn't even realize that he was thinking out loud.  
  
"She's such a know-it-all, so bossy, so demanding, so.perfect."  
  
His eyes flew open as he heard a noise from outside the window of the hut. He quietly rose to his feet, wand in hand and peered out the window into a pair of frightened brown eyes.  
  
He heard a loud crack and saw a magnificent bolt of lightening streak across the sky. It provided just enough light to outline the delicate features of the face that belonged to the eyes that he was gazing into.  
  
"Hermione?" he said questioningly.  
  
"Ron?" she stammered.  
  
She rushed quickly to the door of the hut as the rain poured down. He opened the door and she quickly came inside.  
  
"My books, my bag.I forgot." she stammered.  
  
Ron ran out the door and grabbed her things from underneath the window. He shuddered at the cold that the rain seemed to bring with it and hurried inside the hut.  
  
"They got wet." He said, instantly regretting his knack for saying the obvious.  
  
Hermione reached for her wand and quickly sent sparks to light a fire in the fireplace. She glanced down at the propped open book and the parchment at Ron's feet.  
  
"Studying? On a Friday night? Is it really you Ron Weasley or has someone else been making the polyjuice potion?"  
  
Ron scowled. This was the reason why he wanted privacy in the first place. Sometimes she was just so.  
  
"Wait a second Hermione.what are you doing here?"  
  
He quickly reached down and grabbed one of her books, holding it high into the air. A thin magazine fell out of its folds. He grabbed it and began reading.  
  
"Witchplay?"  
  
He read the headlines of the featured stories.  
  
"How to attract you dream Wizard.A Witches' Guide to pleasing her Wizard."  
  
Hermione blushed and clutched her want.  
  
"Accio Witchplay"  
  
The magazine flew out of Ron's hands and into her own.  
  
Hermione shivered and moved closer to the fire. She couldn't look at him. She had a million words that she wanted to say, ways to dismiss her actions, yet for once she couldn't speak.  
  
He stood over her with a confused expression on his face. He didn't know whether to tease her or wonder why she would be reading such things. Sure, she was probably just doing some sort of research, something about fluffy journalism and its effects on teenage girls. Yet she wasn't saying anything, just staring into the fire.  
  
"Hermione?" he spoke in a gentle tone. He had no idea where this voice came from, but he was concerned about her.  
  
She looked up into his thoughtful blue eyes. He noticed that she was flushed, or perhaps still blushing, and she looked nervous.  
  
"Would you help me work on my Potions essay?"  
  
She wasn't sure of he was letting her off the hook or if he was really that daft. One look into his eyes told her that he cared enough to simply let the subject drop. She was impressed, it seemed her wizard was growing up.  
  
Her wizard? She tried to clear the thought from her mind, but it was hard. He was standing over her, tall, lean, strong. His eyes were mesmerizing, his red hair was soaked and matted down on his head and his robes clung to his body. He shivered.  
  
"You need to warm up first Ron. Sit next to the fire." She patted the seat next to her.  
  
He blushed, but quickly sat down. He felt warm all over, and part of him knew that it wasn't just from the fire.  
  
They sat in silence for a while. At the same moment they turned to each other.  
  
"Uh."  
  
"So."  
  
"You first."  
  
"Why are you studying here on a Friday night?  
  
"I knew it would be quiet and that I could get things done."  
  
"Why aren't you in the library?"  
  
"I was avoiding you."  
  
He saw a flicker of pain in her eyes.  
  
"Me?"  
  
"I knew you would make a big deal out of my doing schoolwork and I just didn't."  
  
"Didn't what?"  
  
He looked into her eyes and could see the reflection of the fire dancing in the brown depths.  
  
"I didn't want to disappoint you."  
  
She looked down and without thinking quickly said "You couldn't disappoint me."  
  
He grinned. "I just didn't want you to think badly of me if I didn't get everything done or if I did poorly."  
  
She looked up. She could see the concern in his deep blue eyes. She smiled at him.  
  
"Well we both have our secrets."  
  
He looked toward the magazine that she had laid on the floor.  
  
"What is your secret, Hermione?" 


	4. Secrets

Her heart was racing. She wasn't sure if she should tell him the real reason that she was there. Her need for solitude this evening. The reason why she had the magazine.  
  
"I shared my secret with you, Hermione. Why are you here tonight? Why do you have this?"  
  
He reached down and picked up the magazine. He began to page through it as she tried to think of a response.  
  
"Uh."  
  
She didn't know what to tell him. Part of her wished that she could simply tell him the truth. Another part of her wondered that if she did, would her truly understand that nothing would ever be the same? Normally she was so sure of herself. So certain. If she needed and answer, she consulted a book or did some research. She never questioned her cleverness or her intellect. Until now. She had never before been faced with such a situation.  
  
He silently chuckled at the articles that he came across in the magazine. He read through the article on how to attract your dream wizard. Would a girl wearing tight robes and drinking a potion to lengthen her lashes so she could bat them at her dream wizard really work? He wondered why any witch would bother to read this nonsense. He continued to page through the magazine.  
  
He stopped on a particularly interesting article. A Witches' Guide to Pleasing her Wizard. He grinned, thinking about all the things that he wanted to do to please his witch.  
  
His witch.  
  
Here she was, sitting next to him, not answering his questions. She wasn't saying anything. It was so unlike her not to have some response. Not to grab the magazine out of his hands or to dismiss her actions in some way. He was curious, but he continued to page through Witchplay and wait for her to answer.  
  
A small piece of parchment fell out of the folds of the magazine and into Ron's lap. She instantly knew what it was, yet she couldn't reach for it fast enough. He touched it with his fingers and squinted to read the fine, delicate print.  
  
"Ron." she whispered urgently, realizing what he was about to uncover.  
  
If he could see the words on that parchment, if he could read what was in her heart, what she had achingly confessed with her quill just a few nights before, unburdening herself of her thoughts. She didn't know if she could handle it.she looked towards him.  
  
He looked up at her, and her eyes were pleading with him. Without another glance at the parchment, he placed it back inside the folds of the magazine and handed the magazine to Hermione. He began to rise from his position.  
  
She looked up at him and reached out to touch his hand.  
  
He turned around, aware of her sudden contact with him and he knelt down in front of her.  
  
He leaned forward, close to her, and made a sudden movement.  
  
She gasped and he put his fingers to her mouth to quiet her.  
  
He moved in, his lips gently grazing her ear and whispered.  
  
"Your secret is safe with me."  
  
Tears began to well up in her eyes. She slowly let out her breath as he continued speaking.  
  
"Now, about that Potions essay." 


End file.
